The Lioness
by Violet Deveraux
Summary: AU, After a frightening dream, Minerva McGonagall takes it upon herself to assist Harry in the tournament. Proactive Mentor McGonagall, eventual Harry/Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I hold no claims to Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**November 1, 1994 - Deputy Headmistress' Quarters - 3:47 AM**

Minerva McGonagall woke up with a start from her nightmare.

She couldn't remember the last time she had night terrors, it was probably in 1981 after Lily and James were killed. She had been heartbroken to hear that Voldemort had killed them, considering they were fairly close and she always held a soft spot for those two, even before they were even civil to each other. A bit ironic considering the late Potters were the subject of her very nightmare, along with their only son.

She frowned and reached up to touch her face, realizing that she was crying. She hadn't cried since her husband had died over three decades before! She reached up and wiped them away, trying to slow her heart down as it slammed beneath her breast.

If Minerva McGonagall was honest with herself, James Potter was the best Transfiguration student she had ever had. If he had continued to study past Hogwarts, he would have surpassed her and she would have gladly passed the torch, so to speak. He was incredibly adept in the subject, though he tended to use his skill in his mischievousness with the other Marauders - transfiguring students books in various animals, transfiguring robes into hideous get-ups, etc.

No, James Potter became an Auror after his education was completed. Partly in revenge for his parent's deaths since they abhorred the Dark Arts and were slain by them. The Potters were known lightsiders - fighting the good fight for the light side and intolerant to anything Dark Art related. James admired this and it started when he was young, it gave him quite a big head. When he eventually matured and started dating Lily, he showed interest in becoming an Auror so that his own family wouldn't have to worry about dark witches and wizards.

Lily was easily considered the brightest witch in the school during her time at Hogwarts, proficient in both charms and potions, she was sure she would be the school's Potion's Mistress instead of Severus if she was still alive. A small voice in the back of her head muttered that the children would actually be learning something instead of being afraid to even go to that class.

She had gotten pregnant fairly young and Minerva remembered Lily tearfully confessing that she felt incredibly selfish becoming pregnant in the middle of the war. James was trying to make the best of it, and though she appreciated the efforts, she was still terrified. Then the Potters went into hiding, and then the Dark Lord killed them and the rest was boy-who-lived history.

Minerva knew that things would be a lot different if James and Lily were still alive, things would most definitely be better for Harry.

Thankfully, her breathing had reduced from gasping pants, but she still felt herself shaking from the dream. She shakily stood from her bed, her legs feeling like someone had hit her with a jelly jinx as she walked to her bathroom. Splashing some cold water on her face helped settle her nerves a bit, though her heart was rapidly beating.

All because of that terrible dream in which she saw death_. Harry Potter's _death to be exact. She saw him lying dead in the Forbidden Forest from his detention, in the infirmary from a Basilisk bite, his soul sucked out by a Dementor, hit by a killing curse...

And every single one of his deaths, she could have done something to help him. She could have made him clean the trophies instead of sending those _children_ into the Forbidden Forest with a wandless half-giant, she could have listened to the poor boy when he cried that Severus was trying to steal the stone; in retrospect, was it truly that safe if first years could get through the obstacle course? And how was that a thirteen year old girl could figure out the clue of the Basilisk, but the teachers couldn't?

Every single image flashed in front of her eyes and the worst part about it was the people affected by his death. In her dream, she saw Hermione Granger sobbing over his body, desperately begging him to wake up; the usually emotionally incompetent Ron Weasley staring shocked at his dead best mate; Hagrid, the whole Weasley family, teachers, students, everyone who Harry Potter had touched in some way were utter wrecks. Then they turned to look at Minerva McGonagall simultaneously with blame in their eyes that all said the same thing, _'This is partly your fault.'_

James and Lily then appeared, their faces displaying disappointment in their former Transfiguration professor - they trusted her to keep Harry safe. Lily had asked Minerva herself to, at the very least, look after him if something happened to the Potters. She let Albus leave the boy with those muggles and she had failed, James, Lily, and Harry.

She had swept everything under the rug, not bothering to help the boy through his adventures. Those three always seemed to be wrapped up in every conflict in the school and she always questioned 'why them' but never did anything to help. She never did _anything _to help.

Why?

She really couldn't answer that question, to her shame, but she knew that that needed to change if she wanted the boy to live through this tournament. She had once said that the trio had 'sheer dumb luck' on their side, and she was usually right, but Harry needed more than luck now. He needed skill.

Something she could help him with. A redemption, of a sort.

She couldn't get back to sleep. She laid in her bed until five am and stared at the ceiling, her mind running wild as the images replayed.

She sighed and reached her left hand out to the empty side of the bed, where Elphin used to lay. Actually no, he would hold her all night before he passed on, he would run his hands through her black hair, marvelling in the soft curls and burying his face in them. Funny, she couldn't remember the last time she had thought of her Elphin. Forgetting was less painful, it was why she reverted back to her maiden name after his death. Forgetting he ever existed was less painful, though she sometimes felt the guilt as if she was spitting on his memory by forgetting.

Pulling on her robes and tying her hair into its severe knot, she briskly made her way to the Headmaster's office. Better to get this done early and out of the way, she was also using the determination she had been feeling from the nightmare.

"Sugar quill," she rolled her eyes at his confectionery password affinity. He was sitting behind his desk when she entered and greeted his Deputy Headmistress with a smile.

"Minerva, did you need something?" he said, gesturing the chair in front of him for her to sit.

"Yes, I've come to talk about Harry," she said, remaining standing since she was sure this wouldn't take long. Dumbledore peered at her curiously, "I will be taking my place as his consultant for the Triwizard tournament."

Dumbledore looked at Minerva for a couple of seconds, before looking concerned. "Minerva, I don't think-"

"You know that you have too much on your plate right now, Albus. Pomona has already offered to assist Cedric as his Head of House. I will assist Harry as his Head of House. I can tutor him in Transfiguration that the others will have already learned, I was proficient in charms during my schooling, I can help him."

"Alastor has already offered to help Harry out in any way that he can-"

Minerva frowned, "Harry doesn't _know_ Alastor, and vice versa. I don't think Harry would be very open to trusting him after he had practiced an Unforgivable curse on students."

"In order to know them, they should experience them. He wasn't using any dangerous intent with them, he wasn't practicing the torture or killing curse on them."

"Yes, but he shouldn't be _practicing_ any on them! I understand he is a fine Auror, he knows his way around the battlefield, but is he really a competent teacher? We haven't had a proper DADA teacher since last year with Remus, but his Lycanthropy caused a problem with the parents. How the hell did we not know that Voldemort was in Quirrel's head and how did we believe that rubbish Lockhart spewed? We need to teach these children to defend themselves and we're making too many mistakes! Without DADA, these children are not getting the proper education they pay for!"

The Headmaster let his Deputy Headmistress lay into him, knowing in some part, he deserved it. Maybe he was trying to convince himself that they didn't need a DADA teacher because children didn't have any part in a war. Maybe because he wanted to protect their fragile and innocent minds - Quirrel was safe because he was so timid. Of course he knew who was in the back of his head, but he wanted to keep him close where he could keep an eye on him. Lockhart was a glorified fool and safe because he only cared about his image instead of teaching. Remus was a former Marauder and the children would enjoy his lessons.

This year, he knew that Alastor wasn't a competent teacher, but he was a celebrated auror and that would capture the children's attentions in class. Maybe it was the death of his little sister and the guilt accompanied that kept him from wanting to involve children in defending themselves against the Dark Arts. He wanted to spare everyone the pain he felt.

Of course, he had his reasons for leaving Harry with those muggles, not one that he could share however. The blood wards kept him protected in that house...from outside threats. Inside, they did nothing and that was a sacrifice he had to make.

The Transfiguration professor watched the different emotions play on her mentor's face, "I've been teaching the boy for four years now, I know him. He'll trust me more than he's trust Alastor, and I am _more _than capable of assisting him in this tournament."

Dumbledore looked contrite, "I'm not saying that you aren't, Minerva."

Minerva's brogue was stern and strong as she spoke, "Albus, we have failed him. _You_ failed him when you stuck him with those muggles, _I_ failed him when I allowed you to stick him with those muggles. We've failed to keep him as safe as we've always prided this school on being. I've neglected to help him these years he's been in Hogwarts, I will _not_ fail him again. I will _not _fail James and Lily again."

McGonagall's words were spoken with finality. They were daring him to object and for her to give him a tongue lashing the likes of which he'd never seen before. She had amitted to herself she hadn't been such a supportive Head of House and needed to turn this around.

It was disrespectful, but nothing less than he truly deserved as she turned without waiting to be dismissed and walked out of the Headmaster's office, leaving behind an emotionally flustered Headmaster.

_'That felt good,' _she thought as she walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, allowing a small smirk to curve at her lips.

* * *

The youngest Champion woke up in a decidedly bad mood.

Ron had pronounced to himself that Harry had entered the tournament despite claims that he didn't. He wouldn't listen to reason, his mind was made up, and that was how it would stay. The thing that really got Harry was that Ron wouldn't listen to a word he said, despite being 'best mates'. Harry was a liar and that was that.

He glanced over and saw that Ron's bed with already empty. He was quite relieved, not wanting to deal with his scowling, mutters, and huffs. He just prayed that Hermione believed him since he hadn't seen her since yesterday when his name was pulled from that damn goblet. A rational side of him was saying that Hermione was logical and would believe him, but the small insecure side of him was taunting that she too thought he was a cheater and he was truly alone.

He pulled on his robes and walked into the common room, seeing Hermione sitting on one of the couches, a book open on her lap. Taking a deep breath, he stepped down the rest of the way.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said tentatively, his stomach churning as he waited for her reaction.

She glanced up with a relieved smile when she saw him and walked over, in her hand a stack of toast wrapped in a napkin. She shrugged at his surprised look, "Thought you might want to skip breakfast in the Great Hall today."

"You...you believe me?" he asked, somewhat skeptical thanks to his guard being up.

"Of course I do!" she said, sounding rather offended and he had the decency to look remorseful for doubting her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that Ron doesn't believe me and I thought he would. Everyone in this school, including the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, thinks that I'm a cheat-"

"Everyone in Gryffindor is supporting you, though," Hermione supplied, trying to give him something - anything - to raise his mood. Fortunately, it didn't work out in the way she intended.

"That's just so they can say that there is a Gryffindor Triwizard champion _if_, and that's a big if, I win. I'm not even sure if I'll survive to the end of this tournament."

"Harry!"

"It's true," he shrugged at Hermione's reproving look. He took a bite of his toast but waited for him to finish chewing before asking her a question. "Have you even seen Ron this morning?"

Hermione sheepishly nodded, "Er...he was in the Great Hall, stuffing his face. Demanded to know whose side I was taking in this debacle, I said yours of course...he became angry...I silenced him before he could say something stupid and grabbed you the toast."

He smiled in spite of his mood at the silencing bit. "Does he really think I want this?"

"No," she said truthfully, "You know that Ron has a tendency to run his mouth before engaging his brain."

"He thinks that I want 'Eternal glory,'" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Yes, like I _need _any more false-glory with the bloody boy-who-lived moniker I have tattooed on my forehead."

"He's just jealous. I'm sure he'll come around and things will go back to normal," she said, trying to sound optimistic and failing miserably. She knew that Ron had a bad temper - case and point, last year - but she was truly disappointed in him. They were never really friends, just acquaintances that remained under the pretense of friendship for Harry's sake.

Harry tried to think about it - things going back to the way they were. All he ever wanted was normality in his life, just a quiet year of hanging out with his friends. Not having to worry about Voldemort, a basilisk, an escaped murdered, an impending execution of a hippogriff, or a dangerous tournament he was being forced to compete in as _bait._

"What if I don't want him to?"

Hermione frowned at his words, "What do you mean?"

"What if I'm done being the subject of Ron's bloody jealousy? What if I'm done being his friend?"

"Language, Harry. Are you sure this is worth losing a friendship over?"

Harry grimaced and shook his head. "Things have felt...strained between us and I can't figure out why. Maybe this tournament is just the opportunity to get out of this friendship. He's got to learn there are consequences to his actions. If he wants to ignore me, fine, but he can't expect I'm going to welcome back with open arms when apologizes...if he even apologizes."

"I...I see your point," Hermione said with a nod. "But, friendship is priceless and you and Ron are best mates."

"Yes, well Peter Pettrigrew was best mates with my dad and look what happened. If he can abandon me over a tournament, can I really trust him in the future?"

"Another good point," she nodded, seeing the look on Harry's face. Admittedly selfish, she was quite fine with Harry dumping Ron as a friend, it would mean more time for them to spend together. She was just making sure that he was _sure_, lest her resent her later because she wasn't as 'fun' as Ron.

"Honestly, Hermione, I'm not feeling any sadness that Ron is ignoring me - just exasperation," Harry shrugged his shoulders, which oddly felt lighter as he unloaded. He then thought about something she had said and winced, "I haven't even apologized for last year, have I?"

Her face was a look of pure puzzlement, "What on Earth do you have to apologize for?"

"For choosing a broomstick and a rat over you."

"Oh, Harry, you didn't chose them over me. The broomstick - I was in the wrong and I deserved it. The rat however..." Hermione trailed off. Hermione noticed he looked pained and she thought it was about the mention of his parent's betrayer scampering away.

Actually, it was party that and also him remembering the look on her face when he wasn't speaking to her, the look on her face when she apologized and he just walked away like a bastard. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She sighed, "Harry-"

"Hermione...you know that I'm not real good at this-" he gestured around, but she got his intent. Harry was inept at putting feelings together into words, but she seemed to understand anyway. "But, I don't think words can express how truly sorry I am for treating you like you're worth less than a broomstick."

Hermione looked surprised at Harry's words, but nodded her head with a smile. "If you need it, then you have my forgiveness. You've had it since last year."

"I think that I should thank you, too," he smiled, though she tilted her head in question. "For _caring _enough about me to do that."

"You're my best friend, Harry. I'll always look out for you," Hermione smiled, before her face took on a more serious and stern look. "Speaking of which, I think we should start researching for the tournament, you're going up against sixth and seventh years. I want to read a copy of the rules and regulations, so I'll have to try to get a copy. We should probably work on charms and transfiguration, because I think that those subjects will be the most important in the tournament," Hermione prattled on, mentally making a list in her head.

Harry scrunched up his face at this and she rolled her eyes, "Now, I know you don't like studying, but I imagine you don't fancy the idea of dying, so choose the lesser of the two evils - studying or death."

"Or worse...expelled," Harry joked, earning a light smack and a smile from Hermione as they walked to class.

"Prat."

* * *

Hermione stuck by Harry through the entire day - well, except when they had to separate for their different classes, but during meal times and classes they shared, you could barely fit a piece of parchment between them. Hermione sensed that Harry needed at least someone to stick by him for the right reasons, and stayed close. Harry needed someone close so he didn't feel so alone.

And he did feel alone.

Everyone in the school, including some of the teachers, had already formed their opinions on the 'boy-who-cheated'. The Hufflepuffs were furious that their thunder was being stolen, the Ravenclaws were rallying behind the popular Cho Chang, who was going out with Cedric Diggory. The Slytherins...well, they didn't exactly need another reason to hate Harry, but they seized the opportunity nonetheless. Draco Malfoy seemed to already be in the process of organizing an 'I Hate Harry Potter' fan club.

Hermione's prescence kept Harry moderately calm, grabbing his hand whenever she suspected he was about to burst, laying a hand on his shoulder with a soft smile that said, 'I'm still here for you.' She really did not know how much her undying support meant to him, it seemed as if it had always been like that, but he had been too blinded, too stupid to realize it. Maybe Hermione's obstruction was in the form of a certanin Weasley. All that really mattered was that Harry had someone his corner all along and somehow, with that thought, the rest of the school didn't matter.

A pleasant surprise came in Transfiguration.

Harry and Hermione were sitting next to each other, continuing their goal of trying to turn a hedgehog into a pincushion. Harry had decided to just ignore the scowls that Ron had sent his and Hermione's way, which, to their amusement, seemed to spurn the red-head on as he continually glanced over to the duo. Harry guessed Ron's train of thought was along the lines of, 'stop ignoring me while I'm ignoring you.' Apparently, Harry being miserable from his best mate's ignorance would make Ron feel better.

Harry, instead, turned to Hermione with a grateful smile which she returned with a proud one of her own. She knew that Ron held Harry back in his studies, he was easily influenced by Ron who usually just wanted to play chess or exploding snap or talk about Quidditch. Now that he was actually trying hard in class, she was incredibly happy. Maybe they'd be able to spend more time together too.

McGonagall was watching the two from her desk, periodically glancing up as she graded papers. Miss Granger was assisting him during the lesson and a small smile tugged on her lips as Mr. Potter was able a partial transfiguration of the hedgehog - certainly farther than the other students, save Miss Granger.

As soon as class was dismissed, McGonagall made her move, "Mr. Potter, I'd like to speak to you...Miss Granger, you may stay if you wish," she added, knowing that she could use the young witch's help with this.

The two teens looked both confused and intrigued, but gathered their things and moved to the front of her room. Some students managed to knock into Harry with their shoulders, demonstrating their contempt.

_"...cheater..."_

_"...glory-fiend..."_

She heard the whispers thanks to her advanced hearing from her animagus, and sighed. The Gryffindors were showing enthusiasm that someone from their House was competing, well, except for the Weasley boy. She watched with some pride as he casually ignored the immaturity of the students and made sure to guide Hermione, making sure she wasn't bumped into.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked as he and Hermione stood in front of her desk. They noticed that their professor's usual stern expression seemed to melt off her face and turn into one of repentance.

"I have to apologize to you...actually, to the both of you," McGonagall started, the two teens sharing a confused look. "I've been rather remiss in my duties of protecting you as not only your Head of House, but your Deputy Headmistress. It seems that danger always seems to find you and I've done nothing to alleviate it. I'm truly sorry for what you've had to go through these years past."

To say that Harry and Hermione were shocked would be a terrific understatement. Her usual stern brogue was almost cracking as she apologized. McGonagall, while stern, was definitely fair. Despite being a proud Lion, she didn't show favoritism - everyone was an equal in her eyes.

"You're forgiven, Professor," Harry offered, their Head of House nodding with a slight smile on her lips. It was true that she had been less than helpful to them over the years, but the fact that she was apologizing for it...it wasn't exactly wiping the slate clean, but it definitely soothed some tension.

"Thank you," she allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "I've also decided to consult you through this farce of a tournament."

Harry and Hermione both shared a shocked look, though she continued on. "I will tutor you in Transfiguration lessons the other champions will already know, I'm also quite good in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry was stunned. He was being offered help? Finally, an adult was acting how they should and helping a child in need. Was the world ending? Was the sky falling?

"I'd really appreciate it..." he then glanced at his best friend and smiled, "but only if Hermione can come along to."

Her brown eyes widened as she whipped her head around to Harry. She was growing a tiny bit jealous that McGonagall was offering extra lessons - all that knowledge he would learn, and she would remain behind. She never counted how truly generous her best friend was. "Oh, Harry," the whisper was barely audible, but her appreciation was practically palpable as she wore a large smile on her face.

Harry then seemed to channel his father as he said his next words to McGonagall. "I mean, with you offering me advanced lessons, it might cause her head to explode," he joked, seeing the smile slide off to be replaced by an indignant look.

She huffed and flicked his ear to his amusement, but looked hopefully at McGonagall.

_'So, he had some of his father in him after all, besides his penchant to find trouble,' _McGonagall thought as she agreed to Mr. Potter's request.

"The Headmaster thought that it might be better that Professor Moody take over advising you," McGonagall said, seeing the somewhat nervous look on Harry's face.

"Erm...no offense to him...but the eye and...he's just a little..." Harry struggled to get the words out, trying to not insult a teacher in front of another teacher.

"I understand, Mr. Potter, and I do share your sentiments. He is a most skilled auror, one of the best there are. His teaching abilities are questionable, though."

"Thank you for this, Professor," Hermione said and as Minerva McGonagall studied Miss Granger's expression with her keen eye, she realized she wasn't thanking her for including her in the extra lessons. Rather she was thanking her for taking care of Harry - possibly the most important person int hat young witch's life.

"Be here tomorrow after classes."

* * *

Barty Crouch Jr. was not all that happy with the news that Dumbledore had just told him...well, not him - Professor Moody, the auror he had been successfully impersonating. 'Best auror in the business, my arse,' he thought with a shake of his head. Then again, a couple of Unforgivables can incapacitate anyone. He would not fail his Master.

"Professor," he said, as soon as he saw the Transfiguration Professor walking down the corridor. He hobbled over to her stopped form. "Headmaster said that you are taking over the Potter boy's advisory for the tournament."

"Yes. I feel it is my duty as his Head of House to do so," McGonagall said, her tone stern as she kept walking at a brisk pace. Barty sighed and hobbled along to keep up with her.

"Are you sure you're not too busy. Albus suggested that I watch over the boy, give him some advice. He's going to need some help in this tournament, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts-"

"_Which_ I am more than capable enough to teach him," she said, her tone daring him to challenge. Barty even had to take a step back from the severity of her tone. "Are you implying that I am not? Are you implying you are the only one competent enough to teach Harry?"

"I didn't mean any disrespect, Deputy Headmistress," he said, hoping to placate her.

She nodded once but her green eyes were cold, "I don't want to ever hear you using an Unforgivable on a student again, especially one of my lions, or you'll have to deal with me. Understand?" His nod was answer enough for her. "Good day, Professor Moody."

Minerva didn't want to be rude, but she wouldn't back down from this. She was a Lioness, she would be there for her cubs.

Barty watched her walk away, a growl escaping his lips as soon as she was gone. The damn woman was going to ruin his master's plans. He needed to get close and keep an eye on the boy, make sure he was in that graveyard in June. Then again, as he thought about it, McGonagall was a skilled witch and bloody terrifying when she wanted, she wouldn't let the boy slack off. She would teach him enough to get him to that graveyard where the Dark Lord would rise once more, for good.

Maybe this was also a good way to stay inconspicuous and unassuming. Dumbledore, the old fool, still believed that he was Moody. Barty mused that perhaps he was just a great actor, though he could detect some suspicion rousing off the Transfiguration professor. He clunked down the corridor, his mood resolved a bit.

* * *

Two eager teens walked into the Transfiguration classroom the next afternoon after their classes had ended. Harry smiled as Hermione was practically bouncing in her spot all day, rivalling Dobby in excitement. Knowledge to Hermione was like candy to a sugar fiend, and he couldn't help but smile at her excited look. She was practically dragging him to the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them behind her desk when they entered, before she flicked her wand and the desks in the room were pushed up against the wall, save for two up front. "Hello, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger."

"Hello, Professor," the greeted politely, McGonagall flicking her wand once more to lock the door. She wanted to throw herself into the focus of these lessons and didn't want to be disturbed.

"I've been trying to schedule a lesson plan together and we'll run a trial and error test for right now," Professor McGonagall said as she stood up from her desk, holding a tome in her hand. "We're going to work on summoning and banishing today. I'd like for you to have at least a general basis by the end of the lesson."

"Have you learned those charms in class, yet?"

Harry shook his head, but Hermione piped up. "I read ahead and I've practiced a bit."

"Care to demonstrate?" she asked, placing the tome on a desk. Hermione took her wand out and Harry watched curiously. Hermione looked incredibly focused and sure of herself as she pointed her wand at the book.

"_Accio tome!_"

The book sailed off the desk and toward the two teens. Thanks to Harry's seeker reflexes, he caught the book easily for Hermione, before glancing at her with an impressed smile, "Brilliant."

She beamed with flushed cheeks and Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement with Harry's observation. "Indeed, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter, do you think you can summon the book?"

"Er...I guess..." he said. Harry wasn't all that confident in his magical abilities; seeker abilities - yes, magical abilities - no. Hermione said back in first year that he was a great wizard, but he always thought that she was being nice to him because they both thought he might not come back alive.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow at him as she levitated the book from Hermione's hands back onto the desk. "Something your mother always said - confidence in being able to perform the spell is the first and most important step. Now, can you summon the book?"

Surged by the mention of advice from his mum and the encouraging look from Hermione, he decisively nodded. "Yes, I can."

* * *

"_Depulso!"_

They had focused on summoning and banishing books during the lesson before they would move up to heavier items later. Hermione, due to her practicing before, used the time to help give Harry some tips. He picked it up quickly, which pleased McGonagall that he was more magically competent than he usually demonstrated in classes outside of DADA.

The two ladies watched shocked as both the book and desk sailed into the wall with a powerful crash, both objects breaking into pieces as they fell to the floor.

His finer details, such as certain object banishing, needed some work. Mostly, just his control. It was kind of amusing to McGonagall - Hermione had precision and control in her movements and magic, but lacked sheer power, which was just a case of not mustering up enough magic to put behind the spell. Mr. Potter, however, seemed to have loads of magical power, but lacked the precision and concentration his friend had.

Harry definitely had the potential to become a powerful wizard with some practice, so did Hermione for that matter, which gave McGonagall hope in Harry doing well in the tournament, though she knew the poor boy just wanted to survive. That's truly what she, and Hermione, wanted too. He could come in last place, be alive, and that would be fine for them.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, wincing at the broken desk and scattered papers from the book.

"I think that's enough for today," McGonagall said, flicking her wand to repair the desk and book. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, Professor," they said, before gathering their things and walking out of the classroom.

"You did great, today!" Hermione said enthusiastically, "I'm very impressed - not that I didn't think you could do it, but you picked it up even faster than I did."

Harry smiled, "Where did you have time to learn all of this, Hermione?"

"Where do you think I go when you and Ron are being boys?"

"The library?" Harry asked, realization dawning, "Oh, so you would practice then."

"Honestly, I like reading and studying but I wouldn't spend all my time in the library," she rolled her eyes with a smile. "It took me a couple of days be able to summon a book and another week to banish with precision. You'll have it down by the end of the week. I wonder what else she's going to teach us."

"I don't know...but I am happy that she's actually helping," he said, remembering when they came running to her because they thought that Snape was trying to steal the stone and how she brushed off their worries. A valuable stone such as that, any tips of attempted theft should be taken seriously, even if you just had to check.

"What do you think brought this on?" Hermione questioned Harry as they took a seat at the far end of the table in the Great Hall. They ignored the glares that were being shot their way and sat in their comfortable bubble.

"I'm not really sure," Harry said, filling up his plate with mashed potatoes before doing the same to Hermione. "Maybe she had an epiphany at her lack of help these last couple of years."

"Maybe," Hermione nodded, pouring two goblets of pumpkin juice, handing one to Harry. They ate in relative silence, a book on defensive spells open in front of Hermione. She had checked it out from the library about ten minutes after Harry's name had been pulled from the goblet, knowing that her 'Help Harry' mode was kicking in.

Harry on the other hand continued to eat and sometimes shifted his eyes to watch his best friend read. He must have seen her do it a thousand times, but he never truly paid attention, probably because he was talking about Quidditch or the like with Ron. Hermione had a couple of noticeable ticks as she read - every time she finished a page, she would take a bite of her food. Every third page, she would take a drink from her goblet. Sometimes she would push a stubborn curl behind her ear, sometimes she would press her tongue against her two front teeth as she read something that looked intriguing.

It took some time before he realized that a familiar set of red headed twins had sat next to her while he was staring. Hermione was either too engrossed in her book to even notice their presence or noticed their presence but ignored them because she was too engrossed in her book. Fred and George had seen Harry's staring and shared a knowing look, before they spoke.

"Harry-"

"-mate-"

"We just want to tell you-"

"-no matter what our prat of a brother says-"

"-we are on your side. If you need anything-"

"-and we mean anything, come let us know-"

"-and we'll take care of it for you."

"Thanks, guys. That means a lot," he smiled. From day one, the twins treated him as what he imagined older brothers would. They then smiled a mischievous smile and placed a kiss on Hermione's cheeks, making her jump and squeak in surprise. Harry burst out laughing from the look on Hermione's face as the twins cackled their way down the table. The muggleborn glared at their backs before turning her brown eyes on the laughing form of Harry.

"Honestly!" she huffed, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her book.

Harry was getting control of his laughs when Hedwig swooped down and landed in front of him offering a note. Harry took it and Hermione offered the snowy owl her some of the pork from her dinner. As usual, Harry's familiar was most pleased and thanked the bushy-haired friend of her wizard by flying onto her shoulder and affectionately nipping her ear in thanks as she took the proffered food.

Hermione saw Harry's eyes come alive at the note and wondered who it was from. "I was able to get a note to Padfoot," Harry whispered at Hermione's questioning look, showing her the scratchy scrawl.

_Common room, midnight. _  
_- P_

"How?" she asked, wondering how they were going to be able to talk. He wasn't crazy enough to show up at Hogwarts...was he? Harry seemed to be thinking the same thing and shrugged at her question, before continuing dinner.

Harry and Hermione stayed up until eleven, casually sitting in the common room with their homework. Though Harry was excused from exams and could basically fail everything with immunity, he needed something to do. He glanced over and saw Hermione nodding off, understandably so. She insisted on staying up, but he could tell that she needed her sleep. He didn't want a repeat of last year where she worked herself into the ground.

"Hermione, you're exhausted. Go to sleep," he gently nudged her, waking her up from her small nap.

"No," she yawned her protest, shaking her head. "I'm fine, and I want to stay up with you-"

"Hermione, it's okay. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open. Come on," he said, pulling her up off the couch by her hand. Hermione begrudgingly stood up, knowing he was right. It also warmed her heart to know he cared enough and she turned to her best friend with a small smile.

"Goodnight, Harry, tell Padfoot I said hello," Hermione said, pulling him into a hug. She couldn't remember the last time she had hugged him, it was probably after the World Cup during the summer, and Harry looked like he needed a hug. As expected, he tensed up a bit from the affectionate contact like he usually did, so she didn't take too much offense.

What surprised her was him loosely placing his hands on the small of her back and seemingly melting into her embrace. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She smiled at the willing contact he gave and grabbed her book before walking up the stairs to the girl's dorm. Harry watched till she was out of sight and sat back onto the couch, periodically checking his watch. Everyone had already gone up to sleep and the common room was empty, the fire keeping the place toasty warm.

"Psst...Harry!"

He froze, glancing around the empty room to find the voice. "Try the fireplace, you knucklehead," he hissed and Harry glanced over to see Sirius face in the flames, using the Floo.

"Padfoot!" he yelled in surprise, before remembering where he was.

"Shhh! Keep your voice down," Sirius said, keeping his own voice low. "I really wish I could pull you out of this tournament, Harry, but I can't. Bloody magical contracts are serious business."

"That's comforting."

His face remained uncharacteristically stern, "No use moping about it."

"Hermione's not letting me," Harry said with a warm smile, making a more teasing smile appear on Sirius' face.

"Ah, smart girl," he said, before becoming serious - no pun intended. "Please tell me you're taking precautions."

"Sirius!"

"I meant with the tournament, not the girl!"

Harry's face flushed at his own prurient assumptions, "Oh."

"Merlin, you really are your father's son," Sirius said, shaking his head at the mini-James. "And keep your voice down! The last kiss I'm going to receive in this life will be from a fine woman, not a dementor."

"Sorry. Hermione already started researching spells and Professor McGonagall is my advisor for the tournament since Cedric's Head of House is helping him."

"Minnie's helping you?" he said, looking surprised and pleased. "That's good, she's one witch you don't want to mess with. The only Professor who could really scare us back then."

"She taught Hermione and I - well, mostly me since Hermione already knows how - summoning and banishing today. I have to work on my precision but I think I'm doing good. I didn't really have any hope this morning, but now...I think I'm going to be, at the very least, okay."

"Any other support?"

"All of Gryffindor is apparently supporting me because they want a Gryffindor Champion, but Fred and George Weasley are supportive, Ron doesn't want anything to do with me - not that I really care. Other than that, everyone else thinks I cheated. It's like second year with the Heir of Slytherin rubbish all over again."

"Hey, it's better to have four galleons than a hundred sickles, kiddo. Keep your true friends close and, pardon my language, fuck the rest."

Harry smiled, "Thanks, Sirius."

"Study hard and survive this tournament, maybe Padfoot will make an appearance to cheer you on."

"I will."

"Get some sleep, I'll talk to you soon." Sirius face disappeared from the fire and Harry smiled, happy. Happy that he had gotten a chance to speak with his godfather and happy with the advice he gave. The smile didn't leave his face, even after he climbed in his bed to sleep.

* * *

**AN: My Dumbledore - fighting the good fight for many years, a little cooky, a little too optimistic, made terrible mistakes in the past, trying to see the best of bad situations.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I hold no claims to Harry Potter.**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Damn it!

"Language!" two female voices chastised in unison.

"I've been trying for over an hour and nothing!"

It was a week after their first lesson with McGonagall and they had moved on to Transfiguration after they had become proficient enough in summoning and banishing charms. McGonagall planned on teaching them some advanced DADA spells they weren't going to learn until later including how to produce a shield. Harry had brightened up at that, eager to learn from McGonagall, which charged his desire to work to get through Transfiguration.

If only it was that simple.

They were working on turning inanimate objects into animals, working smaller and gradually getting bigger and bigger. McGonagall had told them to transfigure a a sculpture of a bird into an actual bird, which was easier said than done, at least, to Harry it was.

He had a grey sculpture of an owl in front of him and all that he had managed to accomplish was his sculpture sprouting feathers in the last hour and a half of working.

He looked over at Hermione's cooing dove and huffed in irritation at himself, and maybe some jealousy. It had even flown around the room before landing on her arm. He knew that jealousy was a dangerous emotion, look what it did to his and Ron's friendship, but he couldn't help but feel a little green with envy.

How in Merlin's name did it come so easy to her? Everything Hermione set her mind to, she eventually succeeded and didn't throw in the towel if it didn't work out right away. Maybe he really should have spent more time working with her instead of fooling around with Ron. He could see now who was going to stand with him through tribulation.

"Did you try my advice?" Hermione asked, seeing the difficulty Harry was going through. She didn't want to say, 'I told you so,' about him not wanting to study with her, so she held her tongue. That was the last thing Harry needed, _more_ condescension and she wouldn't do that to him.

"Yes, but it's not working," he sighed exasperated, running his hands through his hair and slightly pulling. Hermione had a more text-book approach to transfiguration from the amount of time she spent studying the actual book. She set directions, remembering all the universal laws by heart and followed the them carefully and with rapt attention. It worked well for her, but Harry found this approach a bit tedious, though he tried it nonetheless.

"Hmm…" Hermione hummed as she thought. Her dove was sitting on her desk, letting Hermione pet its head as she it looked around curiously. "We have to find a method that works for you."

Professor McGonagall was on her way over. She was a bit out of her element with a Potter boy not having an immediate penchant for her class. James sometimes taught her a few things about the subject. The boy didn't inherit his father's transfiguring talent, though he definitely acquired some of his mother's in charms.

"Your father used to imagine the object blurring until it was transformed into the object he needed. Why don't you try that method?" McGonagall suggested.

For another half an hour, he tried this technique, to no avail. His frustration with not being able to achieve it was threatening to take him over and was hindering his work. He had accepted that he wasn't academically inept, or he had it programmed into his head since a better grade on a test than _Duddykins_ meant an elongated sentence in the cupboard, sans food and water. Now that he was actually trying, and not succeeding, it was hard.

"You just have to find your own technique. One that works for you. Think about it overnight and we'll try again tomorrow," McGonagall said, dismissing them for the day. She saw the inner struggle that Harry was battling and continuing on while he was in this state would not help matters. Frustration and concentration do not mix, it messes with your psyche when you cannot accomplish something, that little voice whispering in your head that you cannot do it. She could see that the voice was practically shouting it in Harry's ear.

"Goodbye, Professor," Harry and Hermione called as they gathered their things and walked out of the classroom.

"You know, I'm _really_ regretting not taking up your offer to study in the past," Harry said as he and Hermione walked. "Maybe then I would be able to do this by now."

"Don't be discouraged, Harry," Hermione said, rubbing his arm and offering some comfort. "You saw how amazing you are with charms, you just need to focus yourself like you do then. You'll get it."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Come on, we'll grab some food and have a private dinner. You can practice your aim with banishing," she said, Harry smiling at both her and her suggestion. He really enjoyed charms, and he never realized how much until he saw that he was quite good at it. Again, he never really paid attention in class, but he was happy that he was now.

They both filled up their plates with some food and made their way to a random classroom to eat in comfortable and companionable silence. The silence was welcomed, better than the whispers about Harry being a cheater and a glory hound.

When they were done, Hermione glanced over to Harry, a bit hesitant. "Do you want to keep practicing?"

Honestly? No, he didn't. Should he? Yes, he shoulder, so he nodded. It was worth it seeing the smile on Hermione face. She seemed to 'come alive' a bit more each day that they continued lessons with McGonagall. Hermione was a passionate girl and sometimes wore her heart on her sleeve. It was imperceptible to everyone but him how closed up she was before this, maybe as a guard against hurtful words. To see her 'let go' and show how ardent she was about knowledge was really heart-warming.

To know that she trusted him enough to show this side of her made him feel really good.

* * *

"You're doing great, Harry. I'm so proud of you," Hermione commented as they walked back to the Gryffindor tower, not before dropping their plates off in the Great Hall. They had practiced for over an hour and he was able to banish with better precision, which was encouraging that he would also eventually succeed in Transfiguration, too.

Harry, a bit sheepishly, smiled at his best friend's praise. He wasn't really used to it, and if he was honest, he liked it. Yes, he was always praised for doing good in Quidditch or something along those lines, but to hear he was doing good in spellwork was stimulating.

Hearing the words "I'm so proud of you," was like music to his ears. It was something he had never heard from anyone before, something he thought that maybe he would hear from his parents for any accomplishment. Hearing from Hermione - the brightest witch of their age - made it even sweeter and he couldn't help but smile at the excited look on her face.

It also made him question - was this how she felt whenever she got a spell before anyone else, or received the highest grade on the test? He and Ron figured they could never understand why she was so excited about schoolwork, and even teased her for it a bit, but now he understood. He vowed to never tease Hermione again - in a derogatory manner - about her passion for to her was like Quidditch to him.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, a small blush coloring his cheeks.

"Your aim is a lot better, as is your control," she said, before sighing, "I wish I had some of your power."

"You heard McGonagall, you just have to find an outlet to channel your magic to and then you can generate more power behind the spell. I'm sure you'll master it by the end of the week," he said, knowing full well that she was going to go crazy until she succeeded.

"I don't know, everything in the book comes easy to me and I can memorize it, but actually putting it into action - some of it gets lost in translation," she then slyly smiled at him, "_You_, however...everything just comes naturally to you."_  
_

Harry shrugged, not exactly used to receiving all of this praise. It made him feel...strange. Not bad, per se, just different. "You know, I really couldn't have done this without you."

"What do you mean? McGonagall is helping us, remember? I'm just reaping the benefits of extra lessons," she smiled to show she was teasing.

"No," he shook his head, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling her to a stop, his expression almost severe. "I don't mean with just the lessons, I mean sticking by me and believing my word. I realize that I never really did that in the past, and you're doing it now. Means more than you can ever know."

He wondered where these emotional words were coming from since he was never one to outwardly show it before. He bottled things up, figuring it was better that way. Maybe, he just didn't want to bottle things up anymore, and who better a person to share these things with than Hermione.

"I'm always going to do whatever I can to look out for you, Harry. Even when you don't want me to," she smiled, referring to the broomstick incident last year. Harry felt a brief stab of guilt, but Hermione immediately locked that down. "No. No guilt."

"Can't help it," he mumbled. He was almost trained to feel guilty for things he shouldn't, part of his experience at the Dursleys, but he knew that he should feel a bit for last year, though. "I just feel bad because the friend whose side I took isn't here right now, not that I particularly want him to, but I wish that I could back time. I'd pick the right side."

Hermione sighed out of exasperation, "What did I say? You already have my forgiveness, though there's nothing to forgive. I'm always going to be here for you, Harry and I'll support every decision you make, unless it puts you in danger. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

"Thanks, Hermione," she smiled and moved toward him, pulling him into a gentle hug. As expected, to both parties, Harry froze up upon contact, before gradually relaxing his body and loosely placing his hands on her back. If he was honest, he needed this contact. It was really just another way to say, 'I'm here for you, and I'm not going anywhere.' To know that someone was looking out for his safety was like a balm over a burn. He felt almost lighter as he climbed into his bed.

It was two smiling teenagers that went to bed that night.

* * *

"Hey, Potter, look at the buttons!"

The day started well enough. Harry woke up well rested, Ron wasn't in the dorm to shoot him glares, Hermione greeted him in the common room with a smile that made him feel even better than he did, everything was going well.

They were chatting pleasantly about everything and nothing as they walked to the Great Hall for breakfast, but stopped and turned to the voice that called. It was a couple of fifth year Ravenclaws laughing who pointing to buttons they adorned on their clothes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that they said, '_Support Cedric Diggory, the true Hogwarts Champion.' _Confused as to why he would care, the words then changed to, _'Potter Stinks!'_

"'Potter Stinks'...creative," Harry snorted as they continued their way down the corridor, seeing that mostly everyone they passed were wearing the buttons and snickering. Hermione just shot them the fiercest glares she could muster, before turning to her thoroughly agitated best friend.

They realized that a quiet and peaceful breakfast was going to be too much to ask for when everyone kept calling out for Harry to look at their buttons. Hermione saw his face flushing red, though more out of exasperation than embarrassment and quickly grabbed some toast and bacon for them to eat somewhere private.

"Just ignore them, Harry," Hermione said, trying to offer some semblance of comfort. It missed its mark as his jaw set even tighter, his eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

"I can't ignore them if they're everywhere I turn," he spat, turning to Hermione with a pointed look.

Everyone was staring at Harry and Hermione, pointing and laughing, their buttons proudly displayed on their robes. Hermione frowned, remembering her primary school days and the mockery that accompanied it. It had never been this bad before, even through the Harry is the Heir of Slytherin nonsense in second year. It hurt to be an outcast, it hurt even worse to hear the names that they call you. She sympathized with Harry and she was determined to give him something she never had back then - the support of a friend.

"The maturity of magicals staggers me," she grumbled as they had to push through a group of Hufflepuffs who were blocking their way, proudly wearing their buttons and snickering like idiots. "Honestly! The teachers have to have seen them, why aren't they doing anything?"

"They probably agree with them. I wonder if maybe some of them are wearing the buttons under their robes," Harry muttered as they walked outside, making their way toward the Lake. Hermione glanced at Harry, a bit worried. It seemed that Harry's cynicism had grown more and more each year. Not that she particularly blamed him, just the situations he had been forced into.

They found an empty classroom and Hermione cast the locking charm on the door, before they took a seat at a pair of desks to eat in silence. The buttons were just another dark cloud, reminding them that it was Harry vs. the majority of Hogwarts.

His green eyes glanced up to Hermione's warm and caring brown ones, and he offered a small smile. Well, it was Harry and Hermione vs. the majority of Hogwarts. Somehow that made him feel a bit better.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall had certainly seen the buttons, and was not a happy witch. Oh, she had an idea of who the culprit was that made them and was itching at the bone to, at the very least, assign him detention. The buttons displaying 'Potter Stinks', did not amuse her, at all.

She briskly made her way to the Headmaster's office and practically growled the password, before storming in. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk and glanced up to his irate Deputy Head. "Minerva, are you alright?"

"Albus, have you seen what the children are wearing?"

"Unfortunately, I have," he nodded with a weary sigh and folded his hands in front of him, "I think that it will be a good lesson for him," Dumbledore said.

Minerva had to blink a couple of times to process what he had just said. A good lesson? What else would it teach him besides that he was shunned by majority of the school who were talking behind his back. "Please, tell me how he would learn from this?"

"To ignore the word of others who try to hurt him, to keep a cool head in the face of adversity, to-"

She angrily cut him off, "If anything, this will make him blow up! He already had enough to worry about, you place the burden of bullies over that, I'm afraid the boy might collapse."

"Mr. Potter is strong. He was able to get persevere through a similar situation in second year, he will persevere through this one."

"He's lost friends over this tournament, Albus. The only ones truly on his side are Miss Granger and a handful of Gryffindors. The rest of the school hates him and are wearing buttons supporting the hate," she snapped, before taking a deep breath to regain her composure.

She respected the Headmaster. He was the one who taught her all the she knew in Transfiguration, she had never questioned him before, but now she was 'seeing the light'. He was a great leader, one of the most intelligent people she had ever met, but he didn't see the forest for the trees. His greater good was more important and sometimes even the greatest leaders needed to be put in their place.

"I'm pulling rank as Deputy Headmistress and will assign the appropriate punishments for those who are wearing these, as well as Draco Malfoy, who is distributing them."

"Minerva, I-"

She didn't want to hear anymore condescending or placating words, "You placed me in charge of assigning punishments and I freely, and shamefully, admit that I abused it in the past. I'm trying to make this right," she said before turning around and walking out of the office, leaving the old Headmaster to his thoughts.

He wanted Harry to rise above all the hate he would receive, but was that really the answer. He had been through the same thing back in second year when all the students thought he was the heir of Slytherin, and he did rise above. Mainly, because of his friends. Now, he only had Miss Granger and Minerva who truly believed he did not enter the tournament.

Maybe he really was going about the wrong way.

McGonagall strode down the hallway, before seeing a laughing duo walking together, buttons on their robes.

"Miss Abbott, Mr. Macmillian," she called, both students turning toward their Deputy Headmistress, who motioned them over. She tapped the badge on Ernie's robes, "Where did you get these?"

"Er...Draco Malfoy." Hannah said, sharing an uneasy glance with Ernie about the other saying on it.. None of the other teachers even cared about the buttons, even when they had showed the other saying.

"Mhm," McGonagall hummed, before tapping her wand and switching the display to the derogatory saying about Harry. "And you actually _bought _this rubbish?"

"But, professor, Potter cheated," Ernie protested, McGonagall raising an eyebrow. "We are trying to support our Housemate. Potter is just a glory hound who can't let someone have the spotlight for once, Cedric is the real champion."

McGonagall narrowed her green eyes, "You can support the champion of your choosing without shunning and bullying the other one!" McGonagall said, before holding out her hands. "Give them to me."

The two Hufflepuffs removed the buttons and handed them to their Deputy Head, who shook her head in disappointment. She knew that the Hufflepuffs were known for their hard work and loyalty, but apparently they were only loyal to each other, not caring about the rest of the school. She supposed it was from their bad reputation of being known as the dumping ground for squibs and duffers, but this was not the way to handle it.

"Harry Potter did not put his name in that Goblet," McGonagall stated, her voice stern. "If you two used your brains, you would realize that. In fact, you'll have time to mull it over in detention tonight with Filch."

The two students sputtered for a couple of seconds in shock, "But, that's so unfair!" Hannah exclaimed, Ernie's face flushing in anger.

"Oh, don't worry. All the others wearing these will be joining you," McGonagall said, before sending them on their way to class. She glanced down at the button, still displaying 'Potter Stinks' and shook her head in disappointment. She strode down the hallway and entered the Great Hall, not surprised to see her two cubs missing. She knew that they had probably seen them and hoped that Hermione was helping keep him calm. She shuddered to think the result of the magical backlash if his control was snapped.

Everyone in the Great Hall was enjoying a nice meal, chatting amongst themselves. She saw the Beauxbatons students integrating with the Ravenclaws while the Durmstrang students were right at home with the Snakes. School unity, except for Harry, and Hermione in correspondence.

"Everyone wearing the buttons supporting, please stand," McGonagall started out pleasant, as if she was going to commend them. She watched as more than half of the school stood up, "Please walk to the front."

They all shared the same uneasy glances that Macmillian and Abbott did and looked like they were about to sit back down or maybe make a run for it, but they had already stood up and everyone would see.

"You should all be ashamed of yourselves! Take those off and give them to me along with your name and House," she said, quickly charming a quill to write the names of the students as they said them. She watched as each student had different reactions - petulance, anger, shame, etc. Maybe cleaning the castle the muggle way would make them think twice about

"Don't even think about it, Mr. Malfoy!" she said, watching as the Slytherin tried to discreetly exit the Great Hall. She silently cast a petrificus on him and his cronies, shaking her head in annoyance.

If she had to assign detention to half of the school to rectify this, then she would. To protect Harry, the boy she failed too many times.

* * *

Harry was pleasantly surprised and pleased to hear that everyone wearing the buttons were being assigned detentions. Finally, like prayers had been answered, McGonagall was finally taking charge and helping, instead of just bowing to the Headmaster. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she was less than helpful in the past.

Harry smirked as he saw the bane of his existence walk down the hallway, looking all manners of unkempt from his detention. "Potter," he spat as soon as he caught sight of him. "This is all your fault."

"Malfoy. Have fun cleaning the loos?" Harry snarked, allowing a small smirk to appear on his lips. Malfoy turned a interesting shade of puce which he was sure Vernon might be jealous of.

"You just had to tattle, didn't you. Too much a ponce to defend yourself, you had to run to McGonagall. No wonder my father predicts that you'll die within five minutes of the tournament."

The word of Lucius Malfoy was less than that of a flobberworm's in Harry's eyes so instead of responding to the git, he just rolled his eyes and walked around him.

"Or was it your pet mudblood who told?"

The effect was immediate as those words stopped Harry in his tracks. He turned to face Malfoy's smirking face, his face completely void of emotion, his insides churning with fiery anger. They could talk about him, he decided that he couldn't find it in him to care anymore, but not Hermione. Never Hermione.

It was then he realized that they weren't just going to go after him, they were also going to go after her. She would be targeted as well, only because she was friends with him.

Harry turned around to face him and raised an eyebrow while discreetly palming his wand, "Do you want to repeat that?"

"I said, did you pet mudbloo-"

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. The thorn in his side since day one laid a good way down the hall, gasping for breath.

The Gryffindor smirked. Hermione was right - shocker - he was getting good at banishing with precision. He calmly strode over to the coughing Slytherin, who had lost his breath as his back impacted the floor. Harry slowly, but deliberately crouched down and grasped Malfoy's chin, bringing their faces nose to nose. The fear that was plain to see on Malfoy's face gave Harry a morbid thrill like pleasurable electric shocks jolt his body.

"Just a little taste," he growled, increasing the pressure of his grip until Malfoy whimpered, "of what will happen the next time that foul word passes from your lips and I hear about it. Don't you _ever_ use that word again, especially if it's in regards to Hermione. She's worth a million of you and I'll make sure you know it if we have to meet this way again."

Harry felt superior, for the first time in his life, as he looked at the cowering and whimpering form of his and his friend's tormentor. Four years of repressed hate against this worm and memories of him tormenting Hermione went to the forefront of his brain. He could feel the magic cackling around him in response, but he wasn't going to use it. Just to add insult to injury, and possibly just to spite him in a 'filthy muggle' way, he spat right in his face.

It felt good to watch Malfoy's face twist in disgust as his saliva dripped from his cheek. Malfoy was lower than dirt in his eyes and if that made Harry a hypocrite, or even put him on Malfoy's snivelling level - so be it. He deserved every bit of hate Harry could throw his way.

Harry grabbed the Slytherin's wand out of his pocket and threw it down the corridor, just to be sure the coward didn't try to curse him behind his back. Throwing the git's head back, he quickly strode away from Malfoy, almost an arrogant swagger in his step.

_'That felt incredible,'_ he thought with a smug smirk, before he realized what he was doing. A smirk? He never smirked, well, he never did before. A smirk was cruel and cocky and seemed to be permanently plastered on Malfoy's face.

Even though his brain was running on overdrive, he was somehow able to navigate himself back to the Gryffindor tower where he made it up to his dorm. He laid down on his bed and pulled the curtains tight before casting silencing charms on them.

He laid there, staring at the top of his curtains, breathing deeply.

Harry felt almost as if he had an out of body experience and his subconscious had just returned to his body. He was able to think about what he just did and was having mixed emotions about it. He had never really lashed out like that before, and it scared him, especially the arrogant feeling that followed. His emotions were changing too quickly raging anger to confusion to almost remorse so quickly. He felt out of control.

He knew from the lessons with McGonagall that he over average in power and needed to control it, but he never expected to ever use it on a person before, unless it was life or death. It wasn't, it was just Malfoy, who ran his mouth because he could and because he liked the sound of his own voice.

Then he thought about the trigger to the violence he just committed - Hermione. If it was just a couple of words that made Harry react like that, what could actions against her make him do.

No doubt she was going to receive backlash, not only because she was supporting him in this tournament, but because she was muggleborn and supporting him. Maybe those who never really paid any mind to it would take notice and start saying the m-word or worse. What if they tried to physically hurt her.

Hermione was a strong witch, she knew more spells than he could even comprehend, but if she was against a group of people wanting to harm her, they could very well succeed. And he had no idea what he would do if they did.

That thought scared him, scenes flashed across his eyes of someone hurting her and them him going ballistic, losing control, bodies lying on the ground if he lost if he had banished Malfoy too far, right into the wall or over the edge of a staircase and he snapped his neck. Madam Pomfrey and regrow a bone, but he would be dead before she could help him. No matter how much of a prick Malfoy was, the guilt of his death would weigh heavily on his heart.

He most definitely didn't want to kill anyone, especially over something as trivial as hurtful words. Harry knew he would protect Hermione, at all costs, and that scared him. How far he would go for her, who he would hurt if she had been hurt, what he would do in retaliation.

He felt himself shaking as the adrenaline from the confrontation left his system, and his stomach rebelled. He laid in his bed with his eyes closed, trying to not regurgitate his food. After about fifteen minutes, the jelly feeling was taking place in his body from the shakes and his stomach felt fine.

Distance. Would that keep her safe? If he stepped back and showed everyone that they weren't friends, that she was on their side, that she wasn't a target. _Would_ that keep her safe? Hermione's safety was the most important thing to him, hell he protected her against a troll in first year and at that time, they weren't even friends.

He felt like he was being repeatedly kicked in the gut, thinking about distancing himself from Hermione. She was a constant, she was his logic, she was his rock, she kept him sane. But, he had to give her up. He was toxic, everyone and everything that he even came in close distance with hurt. All he left was destruction in his wake.

_'Tomorrow, I'll start making things right,'_ he thought the swooping feeling in his gut and the logical protestations in his head being ignored.


End file.
